Training Stunts
Grey Wolf, Session 5, Second Lore Excellency: Grey Wolf works through his Kata's. The Philosophy said these should bring him peace, but in these two days past, nothing seemed to still his soul. So much had happened – more changing in hours then it had for him in months before. New Solars – always new solars, new revelations, new allies, gods, and fae. At first, it had seemed a great boon. The Solars just and noble – their causes true. The Unconquered Sun a caring deity who would watch over his people. It seemed that his fears, so harsh when he first met them, were baseless. But then it all changed. Flaws revealed underneath the gold and glory – subtle, but omnipresent, like a hairline crack that runs all through the structures foundation. Weakness, instability, wrath. Not the manifestations of pure evil, no, but something far more insidious. A mortal soul – beautiful in so many ways, but ultimately flawed, gifted with the power of a deity unearned. Raised higher than the highest mountain, only for it's power to inevitably twist it to darkness, for the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And as flaws without were revealed, so did flaws within flare up again. Things he thought he had buried long ago in the frozen wastes. Buried in the Bull of the North's camp and in the Juniper Forests. But still it came -- that wretched whore who dared to take Tahi's voice in his head. Tell him...things. Feeding words to him. What a zeniths “right and power” was. How to stunt – how to train, what charms to learn. Always leading, guiding, suggesting. Never to oppose or anger, but merely to nudge and strengthen by that nudging, a First Age cancer in the soul. As he went through his Kata's, blue light started to shine all around him. Not that of an Anima banner, but a fainter light, latent wyld energy from the Unshaped's presence pulling itself about him, drawn like iron to a magnet. As he moved, swift and controled, Grey Wolf's eyes were clamped shut, his teeth gritted. His head has no such serenity within, cast into turmoil by memories not his own. Whispers, instructions. The vision of a fortress, a lake, a weeping dragonblooded slave. And worse things. A wall – walking empty in the forests of the north, smug in the knowledge that no other Solars would ever see what transpired. A twisted tower at the edge of the world, with a crew all of demons and fae, breaking the works of Fate just to see if he could. And a single word, whispered over and over. Wyldhand. With a rush of light, the latent chaotic power around him suddenly discharged, shaped – a dead flower before him warping and twisting with the focused power of change. A she-wolf was left standing before him, her coat silver with the touch of the fae, seeming to give him a smug look with it's gaze, tail held low as it offered not so much as a growl. Grey Wolf dropped one of his revolvers as he drew both in a panic – blowing the creature away with an entire five shot burst until not so much as ashes remained. He swept up the second weapon as he fled, but he might as well not have. He was not fleeing from anything he could shoot. Category:CotUS